Page 31 of Her Unsuitable Match

“As you say, my lady.”

Mrs. Havenbrough tittered behind her fan, though what she found amusing, Pippa could not have said. She spoke with a cloying sweetness that did nothing to mask her disdain. “I confess, I imagined a different sort of man for our Lady Philippa. You do not mind me saying, sir, but I thought she might marry a degree or two nearer gentility than a former officer. You have married up in the world.”

A slap in the face might have been a better compliment. But while Pippa felt her cheeks grow warm, Myles actually smiled. A tight, strained smile. Still, his fortitude impressed her as he said, “I must agree. Her loveliness and kind disposition are beyond compare. I cannot say I have ever met a woman who is composed of both wit and angelic beauty.” He looked pointedly down into Pippa’s gaze, causing her heart to lift hopefully. Not that she needed him to defend their union, rather that she enjoyed he would choose to do so with such ease.

“Dear me, you sound as though you quite adore her.” Lady Ian Crawford’s eyes narrowed, as though she searched for a weakness in a fellow combatant. “Given the most distressing reports we heard on the matter of our dear Lady Philippa’s situation prior to your wedding—when was your wedding, dear?—it is something of a relief to find her tucked so securely in your protection, Mr. Cobbett.”

Only Pippa saw the way his jaw clenched, the way he fisted his hand slightly behind his back. Myles hadn’t seemed to mind when the ladies remarked upon his reputation. Had they pushed too far by bringing up the rumors about hers? She needed to get him away from the spiteful hens.

“Any and all who know my wife, madame, could never doubt that one of the most remarkable things about her is the propriety and integrity she displays in her behavior. For someone to think any less of my lady….” He sighed after letting the sentence trail away, then his expression turning as calculating as Pippa had ever seen it. “Well. Let us only say that such people are so lacking in compassion and intelligence that we must pity them rather than expect better.”

It took more control than Pippa possessed to hide her smile at that. Myles had effectively called into question the characters and understanding of the women standing before them. That they all reacted with some shock to his words meant they felt the sting of his words. Pippa, however, felt quite proud of her husband’s quick wit. Though the poor man did appear more tense and pained than before. He had grown pale, too.

“Such a pleasure to see you all. If you will excuse us, I must introduce Myles elsewhere.” She curtsied and led her husband away. Thankfully, Myles fell into step beside her quite naturally. She brought him to stand near an open window. Myles put a shaky hand through his hair.

From the corner of her eye, Philippa noticed the color come back into her husband’s face. She stood on his blind side on purpose, keeping her own gaze trained on any who might approach them. But this meant she couldn’t see much of his expression, could not tell if his good eye was open or closed as he took in slow, deep breaths of the night air.

“I did not anticipate this evening presenting such a trial to us both,” she murmured from behind her fan, waving it languidly as though she hadn’t any reason toward agitation.

“You are too patient with me, I think.” Myles tipped his chin upward and turned just enough for her to see his good eye studying her. “I apologize, my lady.”

“Whatever for? You aren’t the one acting without common decency.” Philippa glanced again at her former friends, only to find they had dispersed. She spotted two of them at once, speaking into the ears of other women of rank. They played with her reputation as cats with a butterfly—without care for how their claws shred her wings so long as it amused them.

Myles leaned toward her, and the fabric of his coat brushed the bare skin of her arm between her sleeve and glove. “My presence isn’t helping as you hoped. Perhaps I should leave. I will send the carriage back for you, of course.”

Though she opened her mouth to deny such a thing was necessary, she swallowed the remark in the face of his fatigue. The light in his eye had dimmed, the corners of his mouth turned down, and his shoulders had lost some of their proud bearing. Surely the comments of a few spiteful women had not done so much to her soldierly husband. Perspiration dotted his brow below his hairline.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, resisting the urge to strip off her glove and touch his forehead.

He hesitated, then turned away, giving her his scarred profile as he answered. “I am sometimes discomfited in crowds. The noise. The smells.” He shook his head. “I will be well enough. The fresh air is already helping.”

“I do not know that London air can ever be called such a thing,” she said, trying to make light of the moment. He did not appear to have heard her, so still he remained. Philippa chewed her bottom lip, then swept the ballroom again with her gaze. “I have yet to see Adam and Elaine arrive. I am concerned something has gone wrong at the house. Perhaps we should both return and look in upon them.”

He didn’t accept the excuse as readily as she hoped. “You needn’t end your evening for my sake.”

“For your sake?” Philippa snapped her fan closed and tapped him on the arm to punctuate each word. “Mr. Cobbett, we are for home.” She looked into the crowd again and met the satisfied smirk of her eldest brother from across the room. Let him gloat. She had no intention of remaining at the ball if it meant acting as a target for ridicule. “I find I have lost all interest in this company.”

“If you insist, my lady.” He offered her his arm.

She took it. “I do.” Then she put her nose in the air. “You are familiar with the concept of a strategic retreat?”

At last, he smiled, though it was with little humor, and when he spoke, he sounded weary. “Indeed. We will regroup and form a new plan of attack.”

Her new husband didn’t thrive in crowds. Yet he had agreed to escort her to a ball. Had withstood insults given directly to his face. Out of duty.

Perhaps Philippa had miscalculated when she could show her face again in public. But that hardly mattered. It would just take a little more time than she expected for gossip to die down. She still had what she wanted. A marriage of her own making, her fortune coming into her hands very soon, and greater independence than she had enjoyed thus far in her life.

After they returned to the Gillensford townhouse, the butler informed them that the youngest child had a fever that had kept her parents home.

Philippa stood in all her finery with her heart going cold. “Has anyone sent for the doctor?” Myles stood behind her, and when she spoke, his hand went to the small of her back as though to support her.

Thankfully, her fear hardly had the chance to form. “He has come and gone, my lady.” Hopkins bowed politely. “He believes the little one is teething. The child is resting now, with both parents in the nursery.” The butler’s eyes twinkled, and were he not so well trained, Philippa knew he would smile with his amusement. The new parents doted on their infant, but there was always an undertone of bewilderment when Isabelle cried without obvious reason.

“Thank you, Hopkins.” Myles removed his hand from where he had touched her, and Philippa looked up at him with a sheepish smile. “I suppose I worry nearly as much as they do about the children.”

“A common enough thing, when you care about someone.” The corners of his eye crinkled a little. “Do you intend to go up and check on things?”

“And risk waking up an ornery babe? Not to mention a grumpy Adam.” Philippa gestured to the nearest door, leading to the sitting room. “I thought I might take some tea and read a book. It is still quite early for those of us keeping London hours.”